Your dreams are your illusions of a perfect world
But the castles that you build in the air keeps you going for a while
Before you fall, and yet again start dreaming
Adjusting your vision, tweaking your story
When you turn blind towards the dark, it still surrounds you, unacknowledged
To break through it requires something else, or may be it’s a myth
May be there is no getting over, only pure escaping
Again and again it strikes you
On a bright sunny day, in the middle of a spring laughter
All that you locked up once comes gushing back
Relentless effort, the box is too small to hold it back together

To end this life is to end it once and for all
But then again, have you seen Cerce valley yet?